


Home sweet home

by Anchestor



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Dad Gaster, Fluff, Grillster, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchestor/pseuds/Anchestor
Summary: It's Gyftmas, and Gaster decides to combine his renowned engineering skills and his much less impressive baking skills to make Grillby a gift that is truly special.Sans and Papyrus "help".





	Home sweet home

 

It all started with photographs. Gaster knew from the start that the results wouldn’t be precisely accurate, heck, probably not even halfway so, but he was going to try his best anyway. Gaster knew himself well enough not to trust his memory to make accurate blueprints. And since this would be a present for Grillby, it had to be as perfect as possible!

Therefore, photographs. Getting pictures from outside was easy enough. Five from the front to capture each detail, one from each side, and one unfortunate adventure though the thicket to get one from the back. Then to measure the size of the front. One long stride of Gaster’s spindly legs was about a metre, the front was six strides, therefore about six metres. Gaster dotted the number in a little notebook. He would be able to calculate the rest of the outdoor measurements by scaling the photographs.

Much more challenging was the interior. Gaster could, hypothetically, guesstimate the places of the tables and booths and the bar and the jukebox and everything on locale, sketching up a blueprint of the room, if it weren’t’ for Grillby. Looking around the bar and drawing it up would raise questions, and questions would ruin the surprise. So Gaster decided to rely on photographs, and draw up the blueprints at home. But getting said photographs had the same problem: just casually snapping a plethora of pictures from different angles would raise suspicion. Trying to sneak photographs when Grillby popped to the kitchen would be risky, not to mention bothersome. Gaster considered using the kids as a diversion: while Sans and Papyrus distracted Grillby outside, Gaster would be free to get all the photos he’d need. But Papyrus had yet to develop a poker face strong enough even to fool other children his age, and might giggle away his secret, even if Sans was there to help.

In the end, Gaster decided to hide in plain sight, that is, not hide at all.

“Smile for the camera, darling!” Gaster shouted as he barged in the door, snapping a nice, sweeping picture of the bar front. With the added bonus of a surprised _flouum_ from the bar tender. The diner wasn’t opening for about half an hour, but dating the owner granted key-related privileges.

“Hi…?” Grillby answered, surprise giving away to confusion.

“HELLO GRILLBY!” Papyrus greeted, rushing past his father’s legs. Sans followed slowly, eye sockets fixed on his game boy.

“hi.”

Gaster leaned against the poker table, taking a photograph of Sans meandering past the booths. Excellent, he could use Sans as a scale later on.

“What’s with the pictures?” Grillby asked as Gaster snapped another photo, his camera pointed at Papyrus standing at the edge of the bar, but zoomed out enough to get the edge of a booth, the jukebox and a fair bit of the bar table in one frame. Bless the boarded floor, it would make calculating the distances between everything so much easier.

“I’ve got two adorable children, a gorgeous beau, and a brand new camera to immortalize them all on film. Why wouldn’t I be taking pictures?” Gaster explained as he leaned over the bar to steal a kiss, blindly pointing the camera at the two of them. The camera snapped.

“DADDY, WHAT’S A BEAU?” Papyrus asked, yanking his fathers pant leg to get his attention.

“ 1. a boyfriend or male admirer, or 2. a dandy. But in this case the former. Well, a little bit the latter too.” Gaster inspected the picture on the little screen of the camera. The framing was garbage, but he had managed to capture Grillby’s blue flare and shower of sparks at the kiss.

“Not bad, eh?” Gaster grinned as he showed the photo to Grillby. Ahahaa, the fire elemental was getting even bluer now.

“…Give me a little forewarning next time”, Grillby mumbled, picking up a glass to polish, avoiding eye contact. Flustered poor dear.

“I’m taking a picture of you now!” Gaster exclaimed, and the camera snapped. He might be on a mission to map out the bar’s interior, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get some actual good photos while he was at it. He then pointed the camera down at the boy next to him.

“Papyrus, do something cute!”

A ten-minute photography spree of using the boys as props the get pictures wall to wall (“That’s a great pose, Papyrus, but could you scoot a little to the left? I think it’s better lit there-”), along with a good chunk of time to _actually_ take nice pictures of the boys and the fire elemental, and Gaster had all the photos he needed, and Grillby was none the wiser.

And two hours of architecture, scaling, rounding and estimating at home later, Gaster had not only precisely calculated blueprints, but also templates carefully cut out baking paper.

Phase one complete.

 

 

 

Next, the dough. Gaster wished he had had a tried and true family recipe, but alas. Even _some_ recipe that had been tested before would have been good, but he didn’t have the time to do trial doughs any more. So he just looked one up from the Undernet that had egg in in, he had heard somewhere (probably from Toriel, now that he thought about it) that egg would provide better structural integrity. Maybe it had something to do with the protein? He should ask Grillby sometime. Sometime _afterwards_ , of course. For now, he dotted down what ingredients he was missing, aaand he should actually get some groceries while he was at it.

 

Not much later he was pushing a shopping cart through the store, the kids in tow. Let’s see, let’s see… He headed to the aisle with the spices. Oh hey, they had baking decorations here!

“Alright boys, I have an important mission for you”, Gaster turned to face the children. Sans looked up, his hands in his pockets, while Papyrus saluted, clicking his heels together.

“The two of you need pick three different kinds sprinkles, the best ones. But only three, alright?” Gaster instructed. And as the kids began to explore the shelf filled with colourful sugar confections of all shapes and sizes, Gaster went to find the right spices from the shelf next to it. They had cinnamon at home, be he ought to stock up now that he was here, Papyrus liked cinnamon. That left ginger, and- there! Clove!

He turned his attention back to the children, who were immersed in a heated debate on what they should pick.

“THE NONPAREILS! THEY HAVE ALL THE COLOURS! THAT MAKES THEM THE BEST!”

“you already picked the rainbow sprinkles! we already have something colourful!”

“BUT THESE ARE STICK SHAPED! NONPAREILS ARE DOT SHAPED!”

“dot isn’t a shape! and the chocolate sprinkles will taste the best!”

“THERE IS NO ACTUAL CHOCOLATE IN THEM, IT’S A SCAM! THEY ALL TASTE LIKE SUGAR! AND THE CHOCOLATE ONES LOOK BORING!”

“Now now boys, calm down. I see that both of you have already picked one type of sprinkles?” Gaster placated. The children nodded, Papyrus the aforementioned rainbow sprinkles in his hand, Sans clutching a jar of silver pearls.

“Okay then. Why don’t you put those in the cart for starters? I’ll go grab flour and dark syrup from the next aisle while you two decide on the last one. But no shouting, alright?”

The boys nodded, giving Gaster their respective choices of decorations.

Gaster had barely found the dark syrup (why was it so hard to find anything at grocery stores!?) when Sans and Papyrus scurried after him.

“we needed three jars, right? So it’s okay if one jar has several types together?” Sans asked, holding something behind his back.

“Yes?” Gaster answered.

“we want this one”, Sans gave Gaster a large jar of clear plastic, filled with four different kinds of decorations, separated by walls inside the jar. It has pastel coloured nonpareils, a mix of small blue and yellow stars, pink pearls and chocolate sprinkles.

Gaster stared at the large jar in his hands. Then he chuckled.

“Sans, you have the mind of a lawyer. Alright, we’re taking this one.”

 

Gaster cleared the clutter off the kitchen table, and wiped it with a dishcloth. Better at least start off clean. He then placed the printed out recipe on the table. Let’s see, the butter and eggs from the fridge, sugar, four and syrup from the pantry, and the rest should be on the spice rack. A large bowl, a kettle, and, of course, measuring cups. He felt a little nervous; he had never had the knack for cooking. Sure, he managed to keep himself and the kids alive with homemade meals, but the results were varied at best (thank goodness the Sans and Papyrus weren’t picky eaters).

But how hard could this all be? He just had to follow the recipe. Besides, this technically wasn’t his first, or even second time doing this. Toriel had drafted him to help on several Gyftmases. Granted, that experience was mostly doing what he was told, but it had to count for _something_. And wasn’t baking a bit like chemistry? Except instead of chemicals and pipettes and Bunsen burners, he had flour and spoons and an oven to work with.

“what are you doing?” Sans peaked into the kitchen.

“Baking. Would you like to help?” Gaster smiled as Sans nodded.

“Excellent. Measure me 4 dl of sugar, please? Use the small measuring cup.” Gaster himself began to size up the butter, cutting the chunk the right size and putting it in the kettle. Oh, right, he should put the stove on. Hmmm. He should have chopped the butter in smaller pieces, with a larger surface area it would melt faster. Oh well.

“4 dl of sugar!” Sans announced, handing his father the measuring cup.

“Thank you.” Gaster poured the sugar with the butter. “Next, 3 dl of syrup. You might have to squeeze the carton a bit, it has a high viscosity.”

“viscosity is how runny stuff is, right?” the child asked as he carefully tilted the syrup carton over the measuring cup.

“Indeed it is! Well remembered, Sans!” Smart boy.

Gaster stirred the contents of the kettle with a wooden spoon. The butter was mostly melted now, and the sugar had begun to dissolve. He reached for the spice rack. Cinnamon, ginger and clove. Lots of cinnamon.

“here!” Gaster added the syrup to the mix, and lowered the heat a bit.

“Alright Sans, next up is the flour. 18 dl. Put it in the big bowl, and use the large measuring cup.”

“ _eighteen!?_ ”

“Were making a double-sized dough, I don’t want to run out in the middle of things. Besides, if it’s too much, we’ll just put it in the freezer.”

The syrup was sticking to the walls of the small measuring cup. Gaster took a spoon to scoop the rest into the kettle too, and then placed both the cup and the spoon in the sink.

The four fell in the bowl with a _flump!_ as Sans emptied the large measuring cup. Gaster took a clean teaspoon to measure the baking soda, and added it to the flour.

“You see Sans, the baking soda needs to be mixed with the flour.”

“why?”

“Heck if I know. Ask Grillby when you see him.”

Sans added the rest of the flour, and Gaster gave him the teaspoon to stir the soda in. He turned his attention to the kettle on the stove. The mixture was even and glossy, just like the recipe had said it should be. Good.

“Caution. Hot.” Gaster warned as he picked the kettle from the stove. Sans took a few safety steps back, and Gaster poured the mixture in with the flour. He checked the recipe.

“Sans, we almost forgot the eggs and salt.” Gaster said in an overly serious tone. “Here, you measure the salt –a teaspoonful– and begin stirring, I’ll handle the eggs.” Gaster handed the wooden spoon to Sans. The boy nodded.

One egg, two eggs, three eggs, four eggs. Sans stirred. The dough was staring to look like it ought to look: a soft, dark brown. Gaster took over the stirring once the dough became too dense for the child to manage.

“Taste test.” Gaster pinched a small chunk of the dough and popped it in his mouth. Excellent. Sans followed suit.

“it’s good!”

“Indeed. Thank you Sans, you were a big help!” Gaster patted the boy on the head.

“are we baking it now?” Sans asked.

“Tomorrow. It needs to rest overnight.” Gaster said and put the dough in the fridge to do exactly that.

 

 

 

Gaster tied his brand new apron around his waist before he started. He honestly should have used one already the day before, but at least now he knew better. He had the templates at hand, a clean table, flour, baking trays, baking paper, a rolling pin. The oven was warming up.

Gaster peaked into the living room. Papyrus was lying on the floor, drawing, while Sans was immersed in a comic book.

“Boys, do you want to bake with me?” Gaster asked.

“YES!! WHAT ARE WE MAKING?” Papyrus scrambled to his feet, excited.

“Gingerbread. Sans, what about you?”

“nah”, Sans answered, flipping the page of his comic.

“Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find us.” Gaster retreated to the kitchen, Papyrus in tow.

He handed the child an apron his size. “We wouldn’t want to get flour on your clothes, would we?”

“NO!”

“That’s right! Now then, this is what to do.” Gaster grabbed a handful of flour and sprinkled it thick on the table. “First, flour the table so that the dough doesn’t stick to it. Then, take a clump of dough. Remember to flour your rolling pin, too.” Gaster showed Papyrus how to roll the dough into a flat sheet, not too thick, not too thin. Then he grabbed a gingerbread mould, a heart-shaped one. He had bought a bunch of different shaped moulds just for this.

“And then you cut a piece out with your mould. And begin at the edges, with as little excess between the pieces as possible, then you won’t need to roll out the dough as much. Just like when cutting shapes from paper, remember? And the put it on the baking tray.”

Gaster had already prepared a baking tray with baking paper, and he carefully placed the small dough heart in a corner.

“OKAY!” Papyrus started eagerly cutting out new shapes, making sure to try out every mould. Gaster on the other hand placed a sheet of baking paper on the table, and begun to roll a clump of dough onto it.

Papyrus stopped to look. “WHY ARE YOU DOING IT DIFFERENTLY?”

“I’m making some very large pieces, they’d be too hard to move around. So I’ll just do them directly on the baking paper, and then put it on the baking tray. Easier to manoeuvre that way.” Satisfied with the thick sheet of dough, Gaster eased it onto another baking tray by pulling the paper off the table.

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN CUT IT TO A SHAPE!”

“It’s ground shaped.” Gaster smiled as he put the baking tray in the oven and put seven minutes on the kitchen timer.

“O-OKAY!?” Papyrus directed his attention back to his own dough. For a moment.

“WHY ARE YOU MAKING HUGE RECTANGLES NOW? THEY LOOK BORING!”

“Yes, well, _now_ they look boring. These are roof panes. They’ll look more exiting later on, don’t worry.”

And Gaster continued to make ‘huge rectangles’. When the one tray of gingerbread was done, he took it out of the oven, eased the baking paper off into the table, and replaced it a baking paper loaded with raw gingerbread, his own pieces or Papyrus’s. He placed his templates on the sheet of dough, and carefully cut along the edges with a knife. Occasionally he paused his work to roll up a new dough sheet for Papyrus, as the child didn’t really have the upper arm strength to do it himself yet.

This would be the front wall, so he cut the door out of it, and placed it among the hearts and stars and piggy’s that Papyrus had made. Next, the windows- oh, he had nearly forgotten!

Gaster took a kitchen chair so that he could reach the highest cupboard. After some searching, he found what he had been looking for.

“DADDY, WHAT’S THAT?”

Gaster showed the items made out of brass to the boy.

“The cup is called a mortar, and the stick is called a pestle. It’s used to ground things up.” It was old, and pretty dusty. Gaster quickly rinsed it.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT TO GROUND? I THOUGHT WE WERE BAKING!”

“Lollipops. I couldn’t find any hard candy in the store, so I have to make do. I’ll show you in a minute.” Gaster took a bag of cheap lollipops from the pantry. He selected three yellow ones, and two red ones. That should result on the right shade of orange. He pealed the wrapping covering off the lollies, and placed the first one in the mortar. CRUNCH! it went as Gaster brought the pestle down, braking the candy off the small plastic stick surprisingly cleanly. He repeated the process with the rest of the lollipops, and then ground them a little more to break the largest chunks.

“You see, Papyrus”, Gaster begun as he scooped the ground-up candy into the holes in his unbaked gingerbread wall with a tea spoon, “The candy melts in the oven, and it makes for very nice edible window glass. I’ve heard people use gelatine sheets for more see-through windows, but hard candy tastes _much_ better.”

When the gingerbread with the candy went into the oven, Papyrus watched it with a keen eye. The boy gasped softly as the pulverized candy shards melted into an even pane, enclosed by the ginger bread.

“COOL!”

Gaster chuckled. A few more walls, and that was it for the big pieces. He began to cut up the smaller pieces that would make up the interior. Tables, the booths, the jukebox, and, of course, the bar table.

Lastly, people. Gaster took the human shaped mould and cut a piece of the dough. But instead of putting the raw gingerbread man on the baking tray he smoothed the top of its head back to the sheet of dough with his thumb. He then cut the top of the head into an extended top, pointy and flowing. It looked more like a santa hat than Grillby’s flame, but maybe decorating would help. He took the other human shaped mould, the one wearing a dress. He cut the piece directly. The dress would look like his long coat if Gaster decorated his mini-me right. Then, two little gingerbread boys. He didn’t have a suitable mould, so he carefully free-handed the shapes with a knife. It took a couple of attempts, though. He continued to freehand more people to populate the room – some dogs, a bunny, that sort of thing.

Eventually he was done. He had used all his templates, and he was _done_. Gaster sighed, and sat down for a bit. How long had he been on his feet?

Papyrus was still full of energy, and Gaster watched as the boy used up the rest of the dough. Hearts, stars, piggy’s, bells, spruces, and those round ones Gaster guessed were supposed to be flowers were piled onto the last baking tray.

Gaster sighed again, and got up on his feet. Just this last batch, and cleaning up the kitchen, then he could call it a day.

 

 

 

Much like the dough, the baked gingerbread needed to rest over night. Well, the miscellaneous ones Papyrus had made didn’t need to, but it was good for the larger pieces to harden before Gaster began to put them together.

Once again, Gaster laid out what he needed. The baked gingerbread was sorted so that his pieces were neatly organized, and the regular ones were piled on a plate. The ground piece was on a baking tray; it would be very hard to move it around later so better build the whole thing directly onto something transportable. The sprinkles the boys had chosen were laid out next to the powdered sugar. He would get to those later.

He put a large frying pan on the stove, turned the heat on and poured a generous helping of sugar on one edge. He turned the heat all the way up, and watched as the white sugar melted into a hot, bubbling goop, such a dark brown it was almost black. He poked it with a wooden spatula. Good. Runny enough, but not too runny. He took a deep breath. This would require careful manoeuvring.

He summoned his magic hands. They gripped the frying pan, aaaagh, _heavy_ , and held it hovering next to the table. Gaster could feel the heat radiating from the pan. With his actual hands he took a piece of gingerbread- the back wall. Gaster dipped the underside to the molten sugar, and quickly propped it on the ground piece. He held it there, upright. One, two, three, four… He loosened his grip. The wall didn’t begin falling over. Good. Then, the right hand wall. Gaster didn’t dare to fully let go of the back wall, so he gripped the next piece with only one hand. He dipped the edge, and the underside in the sugar, and quickly pressed it to the corner of the ground and back wall. One, two, three, four… He loosened his grip, then let go completely. The two walls were leaning into each other. Neither toppled over. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Next, the inner wall that separated the bar from the kitchen. Just like the one before. One side, underside, prop up. The goop was getting denser, it didn’t stick as well. Gaster put the frying pan back on the stove to heat up again.

Once the sugar was runny enough, Gaster brought the frying pan to hover next to the table in his magic hands again. He applied some sugar on the unattached edge of the inner wall with his wooden spatula, then quickly grabbed the left hand wall piece, and dipped, just like the two other walls before-

“DADDY, CAN YOU-”

“ _Papyrus, out of the kitchen.”_ Gaster commanded with his laboratory voice.

The sound of tapping feet confirmed that the boy had done as he was told.

Then, and only then did Gaster begin moving again. He propped the wall to its place, pressing it against the edge of the inner wall. He applied some more sugar to the top of where the walls met, and it run down along the whole length of the structure, all the way to the floor. Lastly, for now at least, the front wall. He dipped both sides and the underside, carefully gripping the piece from the top, and pressed it to its place. One, two, three, four… Nothing fell over. It all was glued together. Gaster put the frying pan on the stove, and turned the heat off. He dismissed his extra hands.

“Papyrus, you can come to the kitchen now”, Gaster said with his regular voice.

His laboratory voice, as the kids had dubbed it, was something that had been established when Gaster took Sans and Papyrus to work for the very first time. Normally Gaster made a point of not order his sons around. If he wanted them to do something, he’d ask. If the boys didn’t want to, he’d explain. Sleep was imperative for the mind, so they had to go to bed early. Milk might taste boring, but the calcium helped with healthy bone growth. You’re brother is tired, so please play quietly so he can rest. He wanted his sons to grow up with critical minds, and if that meant debating with them from time to time, so be it. He had promised himself that “because I said so” was never a good enough reason.

The exception that proves the rule was when Sans and Papyrus were in the laboratory. And while Gaster had made sure to explain where they were allowed to go and what they were allowed to touch, sometimes the kids barged in in the middle of a delicate experiment. Or a potentially _dangerous_ experiment. And those situations required them doing as they were told blindly and more importantly _immediately_ , just for their own safety.

But once it was sure that everyone and everything was out of harms way, Gaster made a point of explaining _why_ he had told the children to do what they did.

Papyrus shuffeled into the kitchen, fidgeting with his hands. He didn’t like it when his father used his laboratory voice.

Gaster reached for the boy.

“Up?”

Papyrus nodded, and Gaster picked the child up. He brought him to the stove so that he could see the better.

“You see that dark goop in the frying pan?” Papyrus nodded again.

“That’s molten sugar. And it’s very, _very_ hot. And when it’s hot, very, _very_ runny. It get’s less runny when it cools down, so it’s difficult to work with. And it’s heated up in a very heavy frying pan, which is also very difficult to work with.” Gaster sighed. “I burned myself on molten sugar once. Just a drop fell on my finger, but it still hurt like- well. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

Gaster looked Papyrus in the eye.

“And that’s why I told you to get out of the kitchen. I was handling something very hot, something very heavy, and very hard to control. I wanted to make sure you didn’t get hurt. Does that make sense?”

Papyrus nodded. Gaster put the child back down.

“Now then. What did you want to ask me?”

“DO YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH US?” Papyrus made puppy eyes.

“Sorry sweetie, but I’m in a middle of something. We can play after dinner, alright?”

Papyrus pouted.

“You know, if you’d like to, you could decorate the gingerbreads you made yesterday. Put those new sprinkles for good use!”

The child’s face lit up. “YEAH! I’LL GO ASK SANS IF HE WANT’S TO DECORATE WITH US!” The boy scurried off.

Hmm. Now that he didn’t need to concentrate that hard, he could put on some background music. He turned the kitchen radio on.

“ _Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful,”_ the radio sang.

Gaster smiled. Indeed he was. And said delightful fire would deserve his best efforts when it came to a present!

Gaster took three small bowls from the cupboard. He broke an egg in one of them. He knew that the yolk could be separated from the white by pouring it from shell to shell, or with an empty plastic bottle. But he had found it easier to just carefully scoop it up with his fingers, letting the egg white run between his phalanges. He put the yolk in a glass and deposited it in the fridge. He’d use in an omelette later. Then he added a heaping helping of powered sugar to the egg, and a few drops of lemon juice for taste. He stirred until his frosting was nice and even. The egg would make it firm enough to hold together small structures like tables and chairs, and it would taste better than the molten sugar, not to mention it would be easier to work with.

In the two other bowls he also put powdered sugar, and just a dash of water. A drop of red food colouring dyed the other frosting a lovely shade of pink; two colours of frosting along with the sprinkles would be enough for the boys to get artsy with their decorating.

Gaster didn’t own any piping tubes. They’d have to make due with teaspoons.

Papyrus charged into the kitchen, his brother following on a much more relaxed pace.

“Alright boys, here’s what you have to work with. Try not to make a huge mess. Oh, and this one is construction frosting, so please don’t use it. And don’t touch _these_ , I need them, your gingerbreads are on that plate there”, Gaster instructed.

As the children began to squabble over the sprinkles, Gaster began to glue the gingerbread furniture together with the egg frosting. While they dried, he could use the regular frosting to make his gingerbread people a little more recognisable.

“Either of you need the white for a while?”

“NO!” Papyrus was busy seeing how many rainbow sprinkles he could get to stick on a single gingerbread. Sans shook his head, he was writing something in pink on his.

Gaster took the frosting and began to tune up his gingerbread Grillby. A vest- hey, he could use the silver pearls a buttons! and a bowtie.

The bowtie ended up being a lump.

But Gaster managed to mostly fix it with a toothpick. Better not try making glasses, though.

Then the gingerbread Gaster. The seams of his long coat, some dots to mean buttons, and with the help of his toothpick he even managed to recreate the scars on his skull.

Gingerbread Sans was given a hoodie decorated with the blue and yellow star sprinkles, and after trading frostings with Sans, gingerbread Papyrus got a pink scarf.

“dad, check it out”, Sans grinned and held up a gingerbread heart for Gaster to see. It had ‘sweet’ written on it with frosting. _Sweetheart_. Gaster chuckled.

Sans reached for a piggy next. “dad, how do you spell ‘uncultured’?”

The jukebox Gaster simply glazed over and added rainbow sprinkles. He began furnishing the room, sticking the gingerbread in place with the egg frosting. First the doors, and tables and bar counter, the chairs and couches, then the jukebox and liqueur cabinet. Lastly the people. Some of the dogs didn’t fit, so he added them on the plate with the miscellaneous shapes the children were decorating. And that should be it for the interior!

Gaster knocked at the solidified sugar in his frying pan with the spatula. It was almost like dark glass. He turned the heat on.

“Boys, finish what you have at hand, and go out of the kitchen a bit.”

“ARE YOU USING THE MOLTEN SUGAR AGAIN? I WANT TO WATCH!”

“Yes. You can watch, but from the doorway. I don’t want either of you near the table, alright?”

Sans put down his _uncultured swine_ , and Papyrus put the finishing touches to his pink heart with pink pearls. When the molten sugar begun to bubble, both had scurried to the doorway. Papyrus was in full swing explaining why a safety distance was important to his brother. Good boy.

Gaster summoned his magic hands, and gripped the frying pan with them. He applied the dark goop to the tops of the walls, the quickly grabbed the pieces that made the roof and pressed them to place. One. Two. Three. Four.

He let go.

Everything held in place.

Gaster let out a breath, and put the frying pan away.

“Alright boys, you can come back now.”

Now for the finishing touches. Gaster took the white frosting to paint some snow drifts on top of the doorway and the windows, and on the edges of the roof.

“YOU MADE A HOUSE!” Papyrus exclaimed.

“And not just any house”, Gaster answered as he took the pink frosting and wrote ‘GRILLBY’S’ with big blocky letters on the wall.

“it looks just like the real deal. pretty cool”, Sans admitted.

Gaster took a strainer from a drawer, and poured some powdered sugar in it. Gentle shake of the strainer, and soft snowfall fell on the gingerbread house.

Gaster took a step back to look at his creation.

“What do you two think? Will Grillby like it?” Gaster asked, his voice quiet. He felt _tired_.

“yeah. he will.”

Papyrus nodded solemnly.

 

 

 

Gaster trekked through the snow, and the trekked through it fast. The sooner they got there, the sooner he could put this damn thing down, and the sooner he wouldn’t have snow _flying into his damn eye sockets-!_

The lights of the bar shone in the distance. Oh, sweet relief.

“Sans, the door-?” The child had already opened it, bless his heart. The bar was already closed, but Grillby had promised to leave the door open for them.

Gaster made a beeline to the edge of the bar counter and set the baking tray down. _Oh, sweet relief._ That thing was heavy!

Gaster dusted the snow off himself. A quick headcount. One, two- No sons had been lost in the snow, good, but where the heck was Grillby?

Gaster looked around. Grillby had decorated the bar nicely this year. Tinsel, lights, wreaths… There was even mistletoe hanging in a corner, hmm, he should file up _that_ little data point for future use.

The kitchen door opened, and Grillby stepped to the room. He had changed from his work outfit to what Gaster mentally labelled casual-but-fancy clothes: a snow-white shirt and black slacks (what the difference between those and Grillby’s _regular_ white shirt and black slacks was, Gaster might never know), and thanks to the holiday at hand, the ensemble was spiced up with a red vest, a red bowtie adorned with a swirly pattern in a different shade of red, and some holly pinned to his chest.

Grillby looked good.

Of course Grillby always looked good, he had good eye when it came to clothes, but tonight Grillby _looked good._

“HELLO GRILLBY!” “hi.” The children greeted in unison.

“Hi there. I was starting to wonder what was taking you three so long”, Grillby said.

“We were slowed down by cargo”, Gaster answered, planting his hand on the cardboard box that hid his gift.

“DADDY MADE YOU A PRESENT! AND WE HELPED!” Papyrus was bouncing up and down with excitement.

“…You know, it’s a little bit early, but maybe you should already unwrap it?” Gaster was fairly sure the box had protected its contents from the wind and snow, but the structural integrity of the roof was making him anxious. He’d rather Grillby saw what he had made before it all collapsed under it’s own weight.

“Just lift the box, it’s just a lid, it’s not connected to anything underneath”, Gaster instructed.

“I- uh. Alright?” Grillby reached for the box and removed it.

There was a beat of silence.

Gaster felt _nervous_.

The walls were crooked, the shade of the windows too red, and the text of the sign was wobbly. The powdered sugar had mostly shaken off the roof, and ugly dark streaks of molten sugar glared from the corners.

“It’s… it’s the bar.” Grillby said, awe in his voice. “You made the bar out of gingerbread!? Gaster, it’s amazing! Look at the windows, how did you do that!”

Grillby was giving off exited sparks, the flame on top of his head burning bright. The fire elemental rounded the counter, getting a look from every angle.

Gaster felt giddy. Grillby _liked it!_

“Take the roof off”, Gaster urged.

Grillby looked at Gaster, then the house, then at Gaster again. He gripped the roof by its edges and tore the gingerbread panel off the structure. Grillby gasped as he peaked inside.

“You even made the interior-! Gaster, is _this_ why you were taking all those photos last week?”

“I hope I wasn’t being too suspicious?” Gaster asked with a lopsided grin. Grillby gave him a look.

“Alright, I knew you were up to _something_. But I never would have guessed all this-! Gah, I guess we’ll have an extra dessert!” Grillby gestured towards the gingerbread house.

Gaster was grinning wide. “Look.” He pointed to the gingerbread bartender, placed behind the gingerbread bar. “There’s you, and I’m there, and Sans and Papyrus are over by the jukebox! I originally planned having the whole canine unit playing cards, but they didn’t all fit. I guess Greatest Dog and Doganthony are still on their way- hey!”

The rooftop piece Grillby had broken off was missing two bite-sized chunks. Both of the boys were chowing inconspicuously.

Sans swallowed. “he said we’d eat it together!”

“Yes, _for dessert_. Don’t ruin your appetite!” Gaster scolded. Grillby chuckled.

“Gaster, let them be. Why don’t you two upstairs already? We’ll be right there”, Grillby suggested. The boys nodded and headed to the staircase in the kitchen that led to Grillby’s apartment on the second floor of the bar.

Gaster sighed as he reached for the baking tray. “Guess it’s back to hauling this around again-”

“No, I’ve got it”, Grillby interrupted, placing his hand on Gaster’s. On an impulse, Gaster laced their fingers together.

Grillby’s hand was warm.

“God, I was so worried something would go wrong with that thing. Making it was a damn _project_ , I tell you.” Gaster leaned his head on Grillby’s shoulder. The fire elemental wrapped his free hand around Gaster, holding him close.

“It’s wonderful, Gaster. Thank you so much.” Grillby nuzzled Gaster’s skull.

“Merry Gyftmas.”

“Merry Gyftmas, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. Just wanted to make a fluffy Christmas fic with baking and Sans & Papyrus being cute kiddies. Also I really like making gingerbread houses. Take it for what it is.
> 
> I'm still rather new to this writing thing, so feedback would be very much appreciated!


End file.
